The Will (Magdalene #1)(12)

His face had returned to hard, with the addition of cold, when he stated, “So you’re sayin’ you didn’t need Lydie.”

“No,” I whispered, at his words a different kind of twist happening in my stomach, one that felt far worse. This feeling was reflected in my voice and the cold left his face at my tone. Alert warmth replaced it. It was no less arresting than everything else about him, but I kept talking. “I needed my grandmother. I still need my grandmother. Just not that way.”

“She disagreed,” he replied quietly, his voice now reflecting the warmth in his face.

“She would be wrong.”

“Josie—”

“Josephine,” I cut him off to stress.

“Whatever,” he returned impatiently. “I’ve known Lydie for seven years. This means that letter we just heard was written sometime in the last seven years. My guess, recently. This means she felt the way she felt about you in order to include that in her last wishes and she felt that way recently. Are you honestly gonna ignore that?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately and his face changed again, his eyes changed, everything about him changed.

I just couldn’t put my finger on how he changed.

Until he whispered, “Don’t.”

My entire body froze solid.

“Don’t do that, Josie,” he went on. “She wanted me for you.”

He couldn’t be serious.

“Are you saying—?” I began to force out through stiff lips.

“No.” He shook his head. “What I’m sayin’ is, the least we could do is get to know each other. Give her a little of what she wanted. We both owe her that respect and, I don’t know you outside of what she told me about you and the last twenty minutes I’ve been with you, but I’m gettin’ that you know we do.”

A little of what she wanted.

What, exactly, did she want?

Gran had known this man for seven years. She’d given his children large amounts of money. And she’d given me to him.

And yet, she did not mention him once.

I didn’t understand this.

What I was coming to understand as my bizarre morning trundled on, was that it didn’t feel very nice.

“Dinner,” he encouraged softly. “Just dinner. You think I’m a dick, that’s it. Sayin’ that, I’m not gonna be a dick to Lydie’s girl because that woman meant a lot to me, to my kids, and that’s just not gonna happen. You feel that from me anyway, we’re done. But give it dinner.”

I could give it dinner.

In actuality, I could tell him I could give it dinner because it was clear he wasn’t going to give up until I did so.

Then I would not go to dinner. The town was not big but Lavender House wasn’t exactly on Main Street. In the brief time I was there, I could avoid him.

Then I’d be gone.

Therefore, I decided to do just that.

“Fine. Dinner,” I lied.

His lips curled up. “Great.”

“Where shall I meet you?” I asked and his lips turned down but his brows inched up.

“Meet me?” he asked.

“Meet you.”

“Josie, a man takes a woman to dinner, he picks her up at her door and he returns her there,” he decreed and I found this decree troubling.

I found it troubling because, although I didn’t date, had never really dated, that didn’t mean I didn’t frequently spend time around a goodly number of females who did date. And these days, men and women more often than not met places for said dates.

I disliked this. If I were to date, I would not abide a man who told me he’d meet me somewhere. A man who couldn’t act with gallantry, in other words, make the effort to come collect me and see me safely home, wasn’t worth my time.

And it was troubling that James Markham Spear agreed with me.

“I’m uncertain what my day will bring,” I told him and this was the truth. “I have some things to do for my employer.” This wasn’t the truth. “Not to mention a variety of things having to do with Gran’s passing.” And with that I was back on the truth. “I’d rather be free to take care of all that without having to worry about meeting you at Lavender House since I’ll likely be in town anyway, we’ll be coming back to town to have dinner, so I can just meet you where we’re to eat.”

He looked at me again like he was studying me.

“So, when and where shall I meet you?” I asked when this went on for some time and he said not a word.

This lasted longer and I was about to say something again when he finally spoke.

“The Lobster Market, six thirty.”

Six thirty.

I didn’t like this. I never ate dinner until after seven thirty. I was a night owl. I usually didn’t get to bed until after midnight.

Eating this early meant I’d be needing a snack before bedtime which would be annoying since I wouldn’t have one and not because there was very little food in Gran’s house but because I never snacked.

Ever.

The fortunate thing was, I wasn’t actually meeting him so this wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’ll see you there,” I stated. “Six thirty.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”